The Faded Sutra
The rain did not fall so much as it suspended itself, a grey, omnipresent mist that clung to the stone walls of the Athenaeum Institute, a place where knowledge was not merely studied but hoarded, locked away in iron-bound vaults beneath the floorboards. Elias Thorne moved through the corridors with the heavy, deliberate gait of a man carrying a weight that had long since fused with his...
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